It was inspired by a line in a RHCP song, for which this piece is
named. I even entertained the idea of posting it under another
pen name. However, I bit the bullet and just did it, so here it is.
Please don't let the fact that it is Pre-XF and M/O throw you off.
Just read it, please.
THANKS: To Denise and Mallory for listening to me bitch about
this idea for months. See, I told you I'd do it.
Twisting and turning
Your feelings are burning
"Breaking The Girl" by Red Hot Chili Peppers
Fox Mulder stood on the commons, looking utterly lost. He had
been at Oxford for two days now and still had no clue where he
was going. In fact, he had no clue what he was even doing in
England. Sure, he was willing to admit that he had decided to go
to Oxford to get away with all that had been unbearable in his
life up until that point.
He was hiding, pure and simple.
But maybe he had made a mistake.
Usually, he fell into a group quickly, making friends with the
"nerds" almost instantly. But not this time. Here he was the
outsider, the "Yank," who was pushing in on the locals' territory.
At Oxford, everyone was still bitter about having needed the US's
help to defeat Germany in World War Two. Or, at least, that's how
it seemed to Fox. Since he had arrived, no one had given him the
time of day and it was beginning to wear thin.
At the tap on his shoulder, Fox jumped, his heart rate increasing
tenfold. The physical contact had been as startling as the fact
that someone had decided to notice him at all. He turned,
expecting to see an imposing looking professor or a harried
upperclassman. But what, or rather, who he saw took his breath
away.
A tall, thin woman stood before him, a sympathetic smile on her
face. Fox stood stock-still, unable to form a complete thought.
The woman was beautiful, simply beautiful. She had black, almost
blue hair and piercing green eyes. Her face was oval, ending in
an angular jaw and short chin. Her skin was smooth and clear, and
very white in color. She stood close to Fox's own height and had
curves in all the right places. She was awe-inspiring.
And she was looking at him expectantly.
Shit, she had asked him a question.
"I'm sorry, what?" Fox stammered, losing confidence as each
second passed.
"I asked if you were new here," her accent was clearly local, "and
I'd say, by the confused look on your face, that the answer is
yes."
"Um, yeah. I am. I got here yesterday. I'm from America." He
hoped he wasn't being the ass that he sounded like.
"Clearly. Your accent gives you away. Massachusetts, right?" She
was taking his hand, leading him into the commons, getting him
moving again.
Fox settled into the contact, allowing himself to be led. "Yes,
Massachusetts."
She did not speak again, allowing the silence to become a solid
form between them. As they passed through the commons and
approached the street, thoughts blazed through Fox's head, one
after another.
(Where are we going? Who is she? Who am I? What's going on?
Do I care?)
His mental musings were cut short as he was jerked to a stop. He
blinked, looking up to try to get his bearings. His eyes settled
briefly on the door in front of him, before skirting away to find
hers. When he turned in her direction, he found a genuine smile
gracing her porcelain skin. Her smile was calming in the extreme,
and the ball of panic that had made its home in his stomach
since he stepped off the plane began to diminish some.
"You look like you need a drink." She stated, once again moving.
Pulling him into the dimly lit pub, she ushered him into a booth
then disappeared towards the bar.
Fox sat stupefied, marveling at the sudden turn of events his
Life had taken in the last five minutes. He had gone from being
the lonely outsider in a land of foreigners to sitting in a bar,
make that pub, with a beautiful woman who was trying to make him
feel welcome. A smile was spreading across his face when she
approached the booth, two pints of Guinness in her hand.
"Feeling better?" She sat across from him, passing him a mug of
thick brew.
"Much, thank you," he took a sip of the dark liquid before staring
into the glass, suddenly afraid to make eye contact.
"My name's Elizabeth Stuart. People call me Liz. What's your
name?" She settled back into her seat, patiently waiting for him
to look up.
"Fox Mulder," his eyes connected with hers briefly before
jumping away again, returning to gaze into his drink.
"Fox, that's an unusual name, " she took a long pull from her
glass before continuing. "I like it."
The smile that graced Fox's face at that statement was bright
enough to light a small city. He looked hard into her eyes,
seeking to reassure himself that she wasn't lying to him. She withstood
his searching gaze, smiling at him through it.
Confident that she was telling him the truth, he took another long
drink of his ale, slamming the glass down once it was empty. Liz
promptly stood, having already finished hers, and returned to the
bar for another round. Fox nestled back into his seat, feeling a
warmth spread through him and his newfound companionship.
Several hours and a few too many ales later, Fox and Liz stumbled
out of the pub, using each other to remain reasonably upright.
Over the course of the last hour they had begun making a lot of physical
contact, the alcohol loosening their inhibitions.
Their mutual decision to leave the pub had been brought on by a
brazen move on Fox's part. After he had drained his last pint of
Guinness he had turned to Liz, who had been sitting next to him
For the past two hours, and took her face in his hands, pulled
her close, and kissed her with alcohol induced passion.
She had withdrawn from him quickly, searching his face for only
she knew what. Having found what she sought, she grabbed his
hand and leaned to his ear, whispering softly to him.
"Let's go back to my flat," she slurred softly in his ear.
He was speechless. Sure, he had been in a sexual relationship
before, but never with someone he didn't really know, never on the
"first date" and he was a little scared. However, he was also one
to never pass up the opportunity to try something new. So, he
grabbed her hand and they scooted out of the booth, heading for
the door.
Now they stood outside, taking in large gulps of fresh air,
clearing their heads enough to walk. Liz took his hand, getting
Fox travelling in the right direction, before once again leaning against
him for support. As they walked, Liz's hands roamed over
his chest, his arms, his neck, arousing him more with each pass.
The heat her body was generating was fuelling his desire for her,
pushing his misgivings to the side.
They paused at her doorway, she searching for her keys, he
searching for her mouth. They both found what they were looking
for at the same time, her pulling her keys from her bag just as he
pushed her against her door, his tongue plunging into her mouth.
As they broke apart, each needing air, she turned and inserted the
key into the lock, opened the door and pulled him into the
darkness. He kicked the door closed behind him as he grasped her
shoulders and shoved her back into the wall. His mouth ravaged
hers and his hands went to work on her clothing, pulling and
tugging fabric out of the way.
Clothing dropped, hands groped, skin slid against skin. They found
release in each other several times in the course of the night before
both passed into a drunken, entangled slumber.
Fox awoke alone, in unfamiliar surroundings. He blinked several
times, bringing his fingers to his eyes, trying to clear his sight. As
his hands dropped back to his thighs, he realized that he was naked,
and a touch sticky.
The previous night came flooding back into his mind, flooring him
with its reckless nature. He could not believe what he had done.
His eyes frantically searched the room, trying to gauge how long
Liz had been gone.
His eyes came to rest on a folded slip on paper laying on the
Pillow next to him. He gingerly picked it up, holding it in his
hands for a long moment before opening it, already knowing what
was written on it.
Dear Fox,
I had to go to class. I'm sorry about last night, I'm not usually like
that. I hope you don't think badly of me. I think that maybe
we shouldn't see each other for awhile, I just can't be held responsible
for how I behave around you. I'm sorry.
Liz
Fox folded the sleet of paper back up and set it down. He took a
deep breath and stood, beginning to gather his clothes. He
showered and dressed quickly, not wanting to still be there when
Liz returned.
Before leaving, he pushed the note into his pocket, unsure of why
he was saving it. As he closed the door behind him, he swore that
he would never again lose his heart on the first night.
Mulder placed the note back into his wallet, still unsure why he
saved it. Every time he looked at it, it brought him nothing but
pain. He reached for the box of tissues he kept on his desk, hoping to
wipe the tears from his eyes before Scully returned and asked
questions he wasn't prepared to answer.
(I will make some changes. She deserves more than this.)
He was on the phone when Scully entered the office, her meeting
having run longer than planned. She caught sight of the lop-sided
grin on Mulder's face and began cursing under her breath. She
figured he was on to something and that always meant a trip to
some small town with a crappy hotel and a small morgue where she
would have to perform an autopsy on an unfortunate victim. She
walked to her desk and slumped into her chair, awaiting Mulder's
latest proclamation from on high.
Mulder hung up the phone and immediately made eye contact with
Scully, mentally assessing her mood before he spoke. She seemed
perturbed. He swallowed hard, hoping that what he had to say
would improve her mood.
"Hey, Scully, you up for a little trip?" He leaned forward,
bracing his forearms on his desk.
"Come on, Mulder, it's Friday," she sighed. "Can't we just take
one weekend off. Please? For me?"
"But Scully, " he chuckled, "you haven't even heard what I'm gonna
say."
"Okay, Mulder, what is it?" She leaned forward, matching his pose,
bringing them closer.
"We are taking the weekend off, " he paused for effect, "in
England."
"What?" She quickly leaned back, confused.
"I want you to come to England with me. For the weekend. Just the
two of us." He took a deep breath. "No X-Files, no FBI. Just us.
Say you will, Scully."
She was silent for several minutes, trying to get beneath the
words that he had spoken, looking for the hidden meaning. Her eyes
widened as she realized what he was asking her, and what she was
hoping she was hearing behind his words.
"Mulder..." She stalled, not sure how to proceed.
Mulder stood and crossed the room, closing the distance between
them. As he reached her, he pulled her to her feet, drawing her
eyes to his. He leaned down, bringing his lips to her ear.
"I want you to go away with me, Scully." He placed a chaste kiss
on her neck. "I have so much to make up to you, if you'll let me."
He pulled his face back, looking into her eyes once again, before
leaning forward and pressing his lips lightly to hers. "Please?"
She answered him in a most unexpected, but not unpleasant way.
She kissed him full on, licking at his lips with her tongue,
begging entrance. When they finally pulled apart, she spoke
the one word that would change both their lives.
"Yes."
Fin
First published - 7/26/00